“Follow me,” Nando said. “I know where it lives.”
It was late in the morning, hot, humid and quiet. Following the path through the lattice-like tint, a sunshine shaft passed through the jungle. A massive cargo ship, hundreds of yards away, was stacked in containers packed along the Panama Canal. But it was a different world.
We were walking around the canal banks of the loamy scented rainforest, serving as a home for hundreds of birds. I was looking for something specific.
In a lush place in the woods, it looked like everyone else to me. Our guide stopped.
“Who, who, who, who, who,” he gently cried out his hist. Then he asked.
“I can't use my eyes,” he whispered. “You have to use your ears.”
When he called for the third time, I asked and said, “Who, who, who?”
That was amazing. Nando was talking about birds.
A plump, small striped antopita flaped on a rod a few feet away. I stood and in awe of awe as the man and the bird gently called out to me.
“This is the same bird I've been calling for years,” Nando wrote his voice and said happiness.
“Do you mean the same bird species?” I asked.
“No, no,” he smiled. “Same individual. That bird has become very special to me.”
It was a moment of connection between a person and a small animal, lasting only a few minutes. But memorable trips are made with moments like these, and recent trips to Panama have been filled with them.
This December my family and I went bird watching in Panama. It is a country that rapidly builds the ecotourism industry. It is in the same time zone as Chicago and therefore is not jet lag for most Americans. The canal boasts a rich cosmopolitan history. And Panama is home to both immigrant and indigenous birds, from the magnificent friggin birds that soar in the air for thousands of miles to the little charismatic forest birds with dizziness, like striped breasts, striped forests subtly summoned by Nando.
It is the same reason that the Panama Canal was created in the early 20th century, and it revolutionized world trade and explains why so many birds can be found here. This is the land between two continents, North and South America. The largest ocean in the world, between the Pacific and Atlantic Oceans. And more than 10,000 feet have risen between dramatically different elevations and climates, from flat, sunny beaches to cool rainforest-covered mountains.
Before President Trump took office, he planned a week of trip and began thundering about the United States, which would reclaim the canal. This topic didn't appear much on the three bird watching sites we visited. The fellow guests were too engrossed in their list of birds, and the Panamas we met tended to dismiss the threat as bold and were less concerned.
And, as Nando said, “Everyone knows one thing, but there are actually more.”
I've made it second.
We started in Panama City, founded over 500 years ago, and became one of America's most vibrant trading hubs. The old town is experienced a Renaissance and is hidden by a red brick street. This is a spectacularly renovated hotel like the former monastery La Pampania, where you drink holes that blew away the sweaty romantic, old-fashioned tropical vibe. Reminiscent of a classy old home in Savannah, Georgia, we incorporated some amazing jazz at Villaana at Spikey's.
Wildlife next to a cargo ship
On our first morning we connected to Nando. Nando's full name is Ismael Hernando Kiros Miranda. He began his own birdwatching operation a few years ago and was recommended by someone I know in the hotel business. As we drove from town to canal zone, he shared a bit of his life story.
“I was part of people who didn't have the chance,” he said.
He explained how he picks crops and washes trees in the village after someone attacked his father from the family's farm. The outdoor world is his environment, and for many years he has done a series of difficult tasks, so he learned about birds, trees, habitats, climate change, and the ecosystem of Panama's droppings.
Within minutes of arriving at the canal zone, he and his son Ismael, who works with him, helped us find a red lolly parrot swooping across the sky. Tukan, a keel requester who cloaked like a frog. Whooping cough with a long rainbow tail; social flycatcher, pipuk bird with bulging breasts and bright yellow feathers. Nando was walking with his head cocked a bit and listening. He always listened. When he spotted the bird, he used a laser pointer to guide his eyes to the trunk of the tree. At about 6am, a muddy sunrise was spreading across the canal. By 9th year, we had found over 55 species of birds.
But it wasn't just birds. My family is a bird nerd and I learned to understand that bird watching is the gateway to seeing so many other things. While we ran around behind Nando, we saw the spectacular blue morpho butterflies, lumpy rodents called Aguchi, leaf cutter ants that had moved thousands of people down the jungle floor, and writhing red carpets. In the distance, Howler Monkey heard howling. They were incredibly loud and creepy, but we couldn't see them. It's just a wall of cedar trees, ficus trees, giant figs and towering bamboo stems.
“Oh, look at that,” my wife Courtney said, swirling like a helicopter, ducking a dragonfly with its wings swirling like a helicopter.
“Helicopter dance fly,” Nando declared. “Perhaps a woman.”
His knowledge surprised me.
Magic Valley
After a fruitful day with Nando, we drove from the canal area to a town called Elbale de Anton for two hours. Once we arrived in the suburbs, we noticed that our homes had grown larger and the gardens were even more luxurious. I found a traveler with a lovely backpack walking down the main road. I rode a few bikes.
Elbale looks like a fairy tale. It is the perfect small town with a red roofed hacienda surrounded by deep green mountains. It is 2,000 feet taller than Panama City, and is virtually cool and low humidity, making it a magnet for travelers and wealthy Panama people. New cafes line the sidewalks with brightly painted tables. We sampled some empanadas and just thinking about their perfect crust and terrible interiors makes me hungry. Elbale had the feeling of Bali Ubud 25 years ago.
We spent two days at Canopy Lodge, a cozy retreat created by birdwatchers. The first morning I woke up early, grabbed my laptop and crept into the dining room.
“Hey!” the tall man told me, jumping out of nowhere. “Did you see Rufous Motmot?”
It was 6:30am and I was about to check my email.
“It's a gorgeous bird,” he said.
He had a 3-foot-long camera outfit with a camouflage hood and a how-gun-like lens.
The email seemed silly, regretful. So, following his instructions, I followed the bushes behind the kitchen, Rufus' motomot sat in all its splendor: wonderful deep colors – green, yellow, blue feathers – a long delicate racket tail that sways like a metronome.
Canopy Lodge is part of the Network Lodge, founded by Raul Arias Depara, an economist in one of the famous family members of Panama. “Panama,” he told me, “a beautiful country that is very different from the unfortunate images created for tax shelters, money laundering, corrupt banana republics.”
Raúl partnered with Cornell Labs of Ornithology to install 24-7 bird cameras at the back of the dining area. We were eating and talking about birds, watching tanagars, arakali, woodpeckers, barbets. After that, we searched for more birds in the nearby jungle.
One of the highlights was visiting a banana farmhouse that transformed a small, lush backyard into a giant bird feeder. The man didn't speak much English and my Spanish is quite weak. So we sat quietly in the plastic chair on his pouch and saw the colorful winged creature come to his feeder and eat a banana. My favourite is a red-legged honey cleater, a shot glass size with a great paint job, a bright blue body and bright red legs.
Coconut ice cream, caiman, owl
Our last stop was Isla Palenque, a luxury resort in West Panama, in the Pacific Ocean. For this we returned to Panama City and made a short flight to a town called David. We came here with my extended family and there was plenty of chills by the pool, throwing soccer on the beach and keeping pigs for dinner (beef tenderloin stuffs with pasta stuffed with delicious coffee sauce, fresh seafood, lemon tart and coconut ice cream to give you the idea).
Beyond our villas, wildlife was lurking in the forest, and several members of the resort's staff were natural naturalists, like Nando. So we continued to explore.
One evening a young man named Francis took us on a walk and found a rainbow beetle, a scorpion, a possum, and a 3-foot-long caiman. At dawn he took us to the palm grove. There, a group of crested Oropendora carried long grape grapes in their beaks, floating in the air, creating a nest. The nest hangs from the tree like socks. I spent 15 minutes of happy time looking at them.
Francis made the mistake of telling my 15-year-old son, Apollo, our family's top birder (the person he's involved in this) about the elusive and spectacular owl living in the jungle. Apollo was always asking the resort staff for where and where they saw it. On the last day, in just a few hours, we made the last stab wound that we found.
A few minutes' walk from our villa, it felt like we had entered a remote jungle. We could hear the birds, but we couldn't see them. We were covered in insects and dripped in sweat.
Francis lifted his fist firmly as we stomped the way. We were watching our Marines do this on the battlefield. It means stopping immediately.
It stopped immediately. He moved. I heard it.
On the branches of a patch of sunlight, the owl landed, staring at us with large, bright, strange yellow eyes.
We were meeting face to face with one of the most spectacular creatures in the forest. We had heard that led us, just as Nando told us about the first day.
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